


stir gently to incorporate

by aimerai



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - YouTube, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Domestic Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimerai/pseuds/aimerai
Summary: Luc bats his eyes. "You love me, really. I'm the light of your entire life.""Half," Tito negotiates. "I have to have room for Chabby."Okay, that's actually pretty sweet and now Luc's heart is melting into goo, like chocolate left out too long in the sun, and he blinks, because it still catches him off-guard, how much he loves both of these people.***If Luc had known how insane this was all going to get, three years ago, he'd still have done it.If Luc had known, three years ago, that he'd end up falling in love, he'd still have done it. It doesn't hurt except for when he lets it, but he lets it all the time.
Relationships: Anthony Beauvillier/Thomas Chabot/Pierre-Luc Dubois
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74
Collections: Hockey Holidays 2019





	stir gently to incorporate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heybernia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heybernia/gifts).

> heather: I hope you enjoy this!! It's not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it still hits all the spots <3
> 
> to ash, abby, elena, and dean: thank you for your help and encouragement along the way!!

**I. August** ****

There’s a knock on Luc’s door while Luc is finishing editing Chabby’s videos from the last week. Chabby’s gone a little crazy with spun sugar and chocolate, to the point that even Luc’s sweet tooth wants a break. Still, he’s a fucking artist; all of these videos are beautiful and ridiculous, from his pulled isomalt flowers to his actually edible desserts. The worst, by far, were the giant candy heart inspired desserts Chabby had made, with ‘Be Mine’ piped on them, mostly because Tito and him made a whole production out of saying yes and Chabby had kissed him, mostly show and very little kiss, to Tito’s hoots and applause, and Luc had turned way too red. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back of Luc’s feelings, which decided repression was a no-go going forward. Luc had almost cried the day after, when Chabby offered him a plate of macarons. There’s nothing he likes as much as macarons, and it may be late August, but it is still sweltering and humid, so it does mean more than it should, that Chabby went through the effort of making them even though the meringue must have been a nightmare.

The knocking gets a little more insistent, because Luc has been zoning out while staring at a paused video of Chabby tempering chocolate.

“Come in,” Luc calls. “It’s not locked.”

“Babe, please support me,” Tito says, just his head peeking in through the now open doorway. “Chabby is trying to do something with cheese slices and the dehydrator and it looks really questionable.”

Luc makes a face. “You normally support Chabby and his terrible food endeavors.”

“That dehydrator is expensive and I don’t see how cheese is related to the dish he’s actually making.”

“I _could_ come help you. Or you could come sit here and help me edit the rest of this video and we can put on a movie or something until he’s done,” Luc offers. “Chabby’s too smart to break the dehydrator, but he said something about vegetable gels and agar agar noodles so I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to escape anyway.”

“If you’re offering, always,” Tito winks.

Luc swears he only does these things because he enjoys getting Luc flustered. He shifts to the side of his bed and pats the space beside him, and hopes he’s not turning too obviously red.

“Can I grab snacks?” Tito asks. 

“Duh. What’s a movie without snacks?”

Tito grins. “Thanks, baby, you’re the best.”

“Stop doing that,” Luc whines, clutching fistfuls of his bedspread just for something to do that isn’t sitting here blushing like an idiot.

Tito tilts his head to the side. “But you’re so cute.”

“Get out of my sight,” Luc groans, knowing he’s scarlet, and throws a pillow at Tito, who’s laughing it off. “You can only come back if you bring back donuts.”

“They’ll never be as sweet as you,” Tito says, blowing him a kiss as he flounces off.

Luc lets himself melt into the bedspread for a little bit. It’s—Tito always flirts, but he usually saves it for the camera, because it does sell them, as a channel. It messes with Luc’s head when he flirts without a camera and outside of the kitchen, because Luc sucks at compartmentalizing and he’s quick to fall. He’s not immune to Tito’s blinding smile, or his biceps, or the face he makes when he’s concentrating, trying to figure out how to pare down a complicated recipe into something that can be managed by the average person. He’s not immune to how fucking charming or likable Tito is, and for all that Tito doesn’t have the years of background in each other that Chabby and Luc have, he’s a quick study. He knows to bring Luc a cup of his special imported tea when Luc is struggling to finish editing something, and he knows that Chabby should never be allowed to use the blowtorch, but he also knows how to be without forcing anything. Luc likes those moments best of all, where it’s the three of them, all together, with no purpose except companionship. He—it's really dramatic to say it, but it's true—he fucking _lives_ for those moments. 

He’s edited another five minutes of video together by the time Tito’s back, looking incredibly smug. 

“Brought you loukoumades and rosemary cheddar popcorn and the maple cola you pretend you don’t love,” Tito says, grinning brightly, holding up a brown paper bag. “Chabby has a pot on every burner, please let me escape.”

Luc bites his lip. “Should we check on him?”

Tito shakes his head. “He’s fine; he asked me to get the carrots out and it looked like nothing was visibly going wrong? He was muttering something about melting points, though.”

Luc winces. Their apartment isn’t so old that it doesn’t have air conditioning, but the kitchen can still get stifling when they’re cooking in the summers, and it’s been a ridiculously hot August. 

“Don’t worry, I got him the standing fan,” Tito reassures, and Luc feels so comforted by it, that at least one other person is as invested as he is in Thomas Chabot, and for the right reasons, too. 

“Then I guess you can come in,” Luc says, with faux-reluctance. 

Tito grins like he didn’t buy it for even a second and bounces into place beside Luc against his headboard. “What’re you editing?”

“Remember Chabby’s candy heart cakes?” Luc says. 

Tito’s entire face softens. “Those were really fucking cute,” he agrees. “You turned so red after he kissed you.”

Luc is turning red again. “So did you,” he says, but it wasn’t even close to the same kind of flush, Tito cupping Chabby’s face like he wasn’t going to let go until he got his money’s worth, pleased and so delightfully pink with it. 

Tito just shrugs. “Are you posting all of it?”

“I figured I’d cut out the end presentation. It’s too…” Luc bites his lip, thinking of the word he wants. 

“Private,” Tito offers.

Luc shrugs. That’s not exactly right, either. It is private, of course, but he wouldn’t say that’s the reason his heart races and palms sweat when he thinks about that part of the footage making it to the final video. 

“I want to watch Finding Nemo,” Tito announces abruptly. 

Luc jerks to look at him. “Tito, you’ve seen it a thousand times.”

“I will hold the snacks hostage,” Tito threatens, smiling the entire time. “Your donut holes are the Nutella ones.”

Luc is very much feeling blackmailed, but in a nice way. He’d be okay with being blackmailed like this for the entire rest of his life, honestly, because Tito went out and bought him his box of pastries, knowing exactly what Luc had wanted when he asked for ‘donuts.’ 

“I have just the last part of this left to edit,” Luc says, and Tito punches the air, looking entirely too pleased for someone who knew he would’ve gotten his way, because Luc has genuinely never been able to say no to him.

***

“Well aren’t you both adorable?” Chabby drawls, from the doorway of Luc’s room, which is lit up all golden with late afternoon sunlight.

Luc's heart skips a beat, but it stays slow, Luc too drowsy to get all that worked up. Luc squints in his direction anyway, but Tito is warm, and he really doesn’t fucking care. He half-heartedly waves a middle finger in the direction of the doorway anyway. 

“Tito’s asleep,” Luc whispers. “I don’t want to wake him.”

“You are also like ten minutes away from being asleep, Luc,” Chabby says affectionately. “Want me to let you two nap for an hour?”

“Come join us,” Luc whines, and if asked, he’ll say it’s absolutely because he was half-asleep and nothing else.

Chabby sighs and steps into the room. “You have me wrapped right around your finger.”

Luc is too tired to blush, but his face is making a valiant attempt anyway, even as Chabby grabs Luc’s laptop off of the bed and goes to put it at the desk that Luc genuinely almost never uses, never mind that sitting on his bed all the time is probably terrible for his back. Chabby also clears the other detritus from the bed, the box of leftover donut holes also ending up on Luc's desk, while Tito's empty popcorn bag is tossed into the trash. 

“Move over,” Chabby murmurs, finally done cleaning, so Luc does, sliding an arm over Tito, who has managed to sleep through all of it. “You’re lucky I love you; we’re going to boil alive.”

“No, me’n’Tito will, you’ll be just fine,” Luc mumbles. “It’s nap time, Chabby.”

***

Luc doesn't wake up first; he wakes up because someone is tracing patterns on his hip. "Time's it?" he croaks. 

"Only about 6:30," Tito murmurs.

Makes sense; the light's barely changed at all. They switched positions in their sleep, Tito now spooning Luc who's staring a Chabby whose face is soft with sleep. 

"Chabby's still sleeping," Luc says, just as quietly.

"He's been through a lot this afternoon," Tito says, practically into Luc's shoulder. "We should go out for dinner. Burgers?"

Luc shakes his head as little as he can. "No, he's been waxing poetic about some new fondue place in Mont-Royal."

"That man and his fucking cheese addiction, I swear," Tito grumbles. "I should check on his dehydrator, shouldn't I?"

"If it's cheese, it's probably been set for at least eight hours; we can check on it after we come home. Want to make a reservation?"

"Phone's in the kitchen, I think," Tito grumbles, and Luc's back goes cold as Tito peels off of it. "Don't let him sleep for longer than another thirty minutes, or he'll stay up half the night. He's teaching tomorrow."

Luc hums an affirmative, and snuggles in a little closer to Chabby, letting his eyes drift shut again. Ten more minutes.

* * *

**II. September**

Luc blinks at his screen, but the image doesn’t change: Chabby and Tito sitting against the headboard of a hotel room’s bed, Tito committing borderline food crimes while Chabby runs a towel through his wet hair. “Are you dipping a granola bar in Nutella?”

“Yes,” Chabby answers for Tito, who just grins at Luc, his teeth covered in chocolate. 

Luc moans a little in horror. “Tito, what the fuck, you are literally at a food festival. I’m so jealous that I had to cover classes for Papa this week, and you’re—a granola bar? Chabby, are they not feeding you, what the fuck is this?”

Chabby makes a hilariously disgusted face. “I got out of the shower and your call was ringing on my laptop; I wasn’t supervising. We were going to order takeout.”

Luc gets distracted for about thirty seconds, because Chabby likes to hide it but he’s built as fuck, and that is a beautiful fucking image he’s put into Luc’s head.

“It’s a fruit and nut bar,” Tito says, finally swallowing, snapping Luc out of a highly inappropriate and also possibly unprofessional reverie and drawing his attention back to Tito committing food crimes. “And I’m _ hungry_. ”

Chabby makes a small questioning noise that Luc’s heard too many times before and wants to head off at the pass before Chabby starts advocating for Tito’s food crimes, the way he so often does. “What does it being a fruit and nut bar have to do with anything?”

Chabby disappears off of the bed. Tito dips the other half of his bar into the travel jar of Nutella in his lap. “Salted nuts go well with chocolate, and berries go well with chocolate, and it’s chewy and fun.”

“The double nut isn’t too much?” Chabby asks, reappearing with his own granola bar that he sticks in Tito’s jar. 

Luc glares at him, too, but it’s not effective through the computer screen. Chabby doesn’t look guilty at all, smirking at Luc a little because he knows exactly how infuriating he is.

“I’ll show you a double nut,” Tito cackles. “Seriously, Luc, it’s boring. Chabby almost got in a fight with someone over like, American poutine, though. That was hot.”

He sounds so casual about it, but then again, it’s Tito. He’s just kind of like that. 

“It wasn’t poutine,” Chabby hisses, glaring at Tito before focusing on Luc. “It was the furthest thing from poutine, Tito, you fucking traitor.”

Luc is possibly a little turned on. Tito is rolling his eyes. “You almost decked that poor food truck dude.”

“You saw what he said was like poutine,” Chabby grumbles, looking no less worked up. It’s doing it for Luc, but also, he just likes listening to Chabby talk about food, so he hums, and Chabby takes it for the invitation that it is. “So, turns out in like, New Jersey, which, who the fuck even cares about New Jersey, okay, they have this shit called ‘disco fries.’”

Tito is snickering, and seeing Chabby’s distraction, has stolen Chabby’s granola bar dipped in Nutella. Luc chooses to say nothing, focusing on Chabby’s flushed face instead of watching Tito choose to lick the chocolate off of his granola bar just to be a pest, or something.

“Disco fries,” Luc echoes. “Like the music?”

“Like the music,” Chabby confirms grimly. “So, this fucker hears me and Tito talking, because we were talking about this artisanal spreads vendor, and he’s like, ‘oh, you’re French’ and we told him we were Canadians and he said we would ‘like this’ and it’s ‘just like poutine’ and gives us steak cut fries covered in subpar gravy and topped with melted cheese. It was some kind of cheddar-mozzarella mix.”

Luc winces despite himself. “Oh no.” 

“Chabby almost threw it in his face; he was pretty ticked off,” Tito pipes in, laughing, as he takes a huge bite of granola bar, now mostly free of Nutella.

“Considering that you actually expressed an opinion about food rather than going with your usual ‘all food is good food’ and called them disgusting, I don’t think you’re allowed to laugh about it,” Chabby says, and he’s back to sounding fond and dry like he usually does with them, no longer so worked up, like he’s done now that he’s talked about it.

Tito keeps laughing, and shoves the bit of granola bar he has left into Chabby’s mouth, somehow, crumbs landing everywhere. It’s kind of a miracle that neither of them choke, and Luc suddenly misses them so desperately that it hurts. His view jerks, because Chabby is apparently possibly trying to choke Tito with his two bare hands or something and must have done something to the laptop. Luc is just watching hotel ceiling and hearing the sounds of a scuffle, bedsprings creaking, and a whole lot of swearing, and then his view blurs and the call drops. 

He genuinely hopes they didn’t break the laptop, but then again, their laptops have survived getting covered in all sorts of food items before, a three foot drop onto a carpeted floor should be small fry. Luc turns up the volume on his laptop and takes it to the kitchen. He wants to make lavender lemonade, and a lot of it, so he finds a small saucepan and gets the lemons and sugar out, just feeling out how much he needs. His laptop chimes with an incoming call just as he’s whisking in the lavender syrup.

Luc answers the call and immediately has to bite back a laugh when he sees them, even as he continues to whisk. Chabby’s hair is a mess, and there’s chocolate liberally swiped across Tito’s cheek. Both of them look satisfied, though, sitting pressed shoulder to shoulder. 

“Who won?” Luc asks.

Chabby’s slow curl of a grin, slightly feral, answers him. Luc is still trying really hard not to be turned on about it, but it doesn’t help that Tito’s also smirking. Tito throws an arm over Chabby’s shoulders and leans in. “It’s okay, I’ll get him back eventually.”

“I know you will,” Luc says. “Wish I was there.”

Both Tito and Chabby pull the exact same disgusted face. 

“Having you here would make it tolerable, probably,” Tito concedes. “It’s just boring. And pretentious. I forgot how obnoxious New Yorkers get.”

Chabby nods. “Honestly, there’s a couple of things that were actually good, but it doesn’t feel worth it. Also, we miss you.”

“We did buy you presents though,” Tito says cheerfully. 

Chabby’s tiny little smirk worries Luc. “Yeah, we bought you a thing or two we thought you’d like.”

Luc finishes his lemonade and pours some of it into one of Tito’s mugs, just because he can, and he’s not sure Tito even knows how many mugs he has. His collection takes up an entire cupboard shelf on its own. 

“What are you making?” Tito asks. 

“Lavender lemonade,” Luc says, sighing a little. “I’ll pop in ice cubes and it’ll reach a drinkable temperature. I wish I’d known which week I was covering cooking classes beforehand. The ladies are lovely, but there’s all this petty drama that I don’t understand, because Papa didn’t tell me anything when he asked me to cover.”

“It really isn’t fun without you,” Chabby says, softly. “Tito and I skipped out two hours early and went to Central Park to feed pigeons instead.”

“Tomorrow, if we’re bored enough, we’ll go to Ladurée and buy you macarons and the tea you like so much,” Tito says. “And probably other stuff too. We’ve been vlogging intermittently, so we can upload the footage if you want to go over it.”

Luc tries very hard not to tear up, even though it requires several hard blinks that he’s sure they didn’t miss. He goes to get the ice for his lemonade instead. “You better get me the Marie Antoinette,” he says, and his voice only shakes a little.

Chabby laughs. “It’s on the list, Luc.”

“What list?” Luc demands. 

Tito and Chabby both have matching smug grins that Luc is slightly terrified of. 

***

Luc figures out why Chabby and Tito looked so smug very quickly, seeing the extra suitcase that they definitely did not have with them when they left three days ago. “Tell me you guys didn’t,” he says, but there’s something warm unfurling in his chest. 

Tito is beaming. “Of course we did.”

Chabby, on the other hand, is blushing faintly pink, like he has no idea that it makes Luc’s brain turn into mush when he does that. He genuinely has no idea, because Luc can keep it professional most of the time, but it still has to be said. Luc’s brain is going to go on strike one of these days, if Chabby does not chill with the soft blush and the shyness. There’s few things that make Luc feel as desperately in love as how skittish and bashful Chabby gets when he’s doing something nice.

“There were a lot of things that you’d like,” Chabby says, refusing to actually look at Luc. 

“We had a list,” Tito adds. 

Luc is going to combust or maybe burst into tears. “I hate you both so much,” he says, barely audible and not at all believable. 

Tito’s smile has widened to a Cheshire-cat grin. “Also I figured we could do an unpacking video.”

Chabby gives Tito an eyebrow raise and a conspiring smirk. “Not all of it, surely?”

Tito rolls his eyes. “Of course not all of it. Just the things he’ll want to use for the channel.”

“Should I be afraid?” Luc asks, tilting his head. They’re up to something they’re not even trying to hide.

“You’ll like it,” Chabby says. “We’ll do the unpacking video first, and we’ll give you the private stuff later; that doesn’t need to go on the channel.”

Luc agrees to it, and the two of them promptly make him wait in the kitchen, where they’ll bring him his box to unpack. He uses that time to set up their lighting and cameras and get the mics prepared, listening to the two of them bicker about what they should and shouldn’t be hiding because they shouldn’t be catching it on video. He has a bad feeling about this, but there’s a knot loosening in his chest now that they’re back, even though they were only gone for about a week. Then again, he works and lives with them; his days were quiet with them gone, even with the cooking classes he was covering. 

The unboxing video goes fine; Chabby bought more fucking chemicals and Tito bought all sorts of spreads and marinades and pickles, and they did, in fact, buy Luc a giant box of macarons and a canister of his fucking tea, and Luc gets stupidly misty-eyed about it on camera and tries really hard to not think about what the comment section will have to say about it. Chabby made him hire someone to screen their social media comments for them, when he saw how much it stressed Luc out, but that doesn’t mean that Luc isn’t hyper-aware of how many supposedly private moments they publish to their channel.

It’s when they bring the rest of the suitcase that Luc nearly has a fucking coronary. 

Luc blinks and stares at the contents of the suitcase in disbelief, half-hoping that he’s hallucinating even though he knows he isn’t. “Oh my god. You fucking idiots, how much biological product did you smuggle?”

They both look so fucking pleased with themselves; Luc wants to strangle them or possibly steal their breath in other ways.

“You like it, right?” Tito asks, biting his lip. 

“You guys risked going to jail, and it was super irresponsible of you,” Luc says automatically, still trying to wrap his head around it. There’s apples, red and shiny, and several bottles of alcohol, and packages that he’s sure are cheeses, and that’s only the things he can see on top.

Chabby rolls his eyes. “I’d do it again. What’s the worst they can do?”

Luc is never letting them go across the border on their own ever again and is also trying really hard not to burst into tears right now. “I literally just said you could go to jail. At the very least, you’d have to pay a fine.”

They both shrug, like it means nothing at all. “Isn’t that more for people who are planning to resell shit or whatever?” Tito asks. “When’s the last time anyone got caught smuggling anything?”

This is literally too much for Luc; he buries his face in his hands and lets a few tears out, but the two of them are onto him immediately, two sets of arms wrapping around him, sitting on the kitchen floor of their downtown Montreal flat.

“Hey, we didn’t mean to upset you,” Chabby says softly. 

One of them is rubbing circles into his back like he needs to be soothed, and maybe he does, but it’s just too fucking much. He’s too soft-hearted and he falls in love too easily, and this is going to be the death of him. They can’t keep doing things like this.

“‘M not upset,” he mumbles. 

“You’re crying.”

“You guys didn’t have to do any of this,” Luc says, sniffling. 

Tito’s voice sounds rough. “We know you were upset about missing this. We just wanted you to cheer up. We love you, you know.”

Luc is pretty sure he’s just going to start crying harder, but the two of them seem determined to sit and wait it out with him, so that’s okay. His heart hurts a little, but he chooses to be selfish, allowing them to comfort him without knowing the entire reason why it’s necessary.

* * *

**III. October**

Chabby is wearing the kind of grin that scares Luc a little, because it precedes all sorts of weird culinary experiments that Luc has to try, even though he’s vetoed clear foods for all eternity, unless they're clear potato chips. He actually really liked the clear potato chips. Chabby’s practically bouncing on his feet with excitement, which happens very rarely, so Luc has reason to be worried. It’s not irrational at all. 

“What?” Luc asks, even as he prepares to be offended by whatever Chabby wants to make. 

“Hot maple ice cream.”

Luc blinks. “I need you to run that by me again,” he says faintly, positive that he’s mishearing some part of that sentence.

“Hot maple ice cream; it melts as it cools down,” Chabby says, eyes lit up with an almost unholy glee. 

“How does that work?” Luc asks, confused. 

“Chemicals,” Chabby cackles. “I’m assuming that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, your fans will probably eat it right up,” Luc agrees, still sure he’s hallucinating this entire conversation. 

“Our fans,” Chabby says firmly. “And you’re eating it.”

“Why do you think I’m going to put anything of yours in my mouth after the soup?” Luc asks.

Chabby raises his eyebrows, and Luc replays that line in his mouth and tries not to die on the spot. “You know what I mean,” he hisses, despite the fact that his face feels hot enough to fry an egg on.

Chabby shrugs. “Because it’s a dessert and it has maple and you have the worst sweet tooth of anyone I know?”

Damn the man, he’s onto Luc. "And Tito?"

Chabby frowns expressively. "He's on...an alcohol tour? He called it an alcohol tour? He was mumbling something about beer bread and brasseries, but he'll be back for dinner. I hope, anyway, otherwise he'll be bitter."

"You're making pasta?" 

"Four-cheese ravioli and sun-dried tomato sauce," Chabby says, and Luc wants to propose on the spot. 

"I love you," Luc says, fervently, instead. It’s better than a spur-of-the-moment proposal, at least, even if not by much. 

Chabby's smirk is a little lopsided. "Just using me for my food, aren't you?"

Luc makes a so-so gesture. "You're also very pretty."

Chabby blushes. Luc wants to die. He knows Chabby isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he’s striking, and when he’s flushed, he’s really, really Luc’s cup of tea. It's not one of the reasons first fell for him, but Luc had slammed a hip into the edge of a marble counter the first time he saw Chabby blush, well after his crush had been established. 

"Do you want to help?" Chabby asks, and he's still faintly pink, and Luc doesn't have the self-control to say no, so he ends up dragged into the kitchen to help Chabby out by making fresh pasta.

***

"Hey," Tito says, hovering over Luc, sitting at the kitchen table and watching Chabby work out of the corners of his eyes. He's holding up a cup with the label of the indie coffee shop that's about three blocks away. "Got you a pistachio-matcha latte."

"I would die for you," Luc says gratefully, lowering his laptop screen so he doesn't have to deal with their calendar app. Scheduling shit is hard.

"No," Tito says flatly, handing over Luc's latte. "No dying. What's wrong?"

"Calendar," Luc murmurs, inhaling gratefully. "Scheduling. Didn't you get Chabby anything?"

"Caramel latte with an extra shot," Tito says, grimacing. "He banned me from getting a frozen drink."

Luc rolls his eyes. "You don't get drinks, you get cups of sugar."

Tito pouts. "Yeah, _I'm_ the one with the sweet tooth."

"That's such a fucking lie," Chabby calls, from where he's intently whisking one of his nigh-indistinguishable white powders into the pan on the burner. "Luc is probably responsible for a good bonus for his dentist."

Luc wants to be outraged, but they're kind of right. Still, that doesn't mean he has to just sit and take it. "I haven't had a cavity yet this year; go back to your fucking ice cream."

"Ice...cream?" Tito repeats slowly, like he's testing the words in his mouth. Join the club, Beau. 

"Oh, didn't Chabby tell you?" Luc asks, vaguely gleeful. "He's making hot ice cream."

Tito blinks at him, then leaves the kitchen. He comes back thirty seconds later with a chair and sits down right next to Luc at the table. "I could've sworn you just told me Chabby was making hot ice cream."

Luc nods. "Hot maple ice cream, specifically."

Tito just stares, and now Luc is really having fun with it. "How does that work?"

"To quote Chabby, "'chemicals.'"

"I fucking hate you, yes, of course chemicals, but how, specifically?"

Luc bats his eyes. "You love me, really. I'm the light of your entire life."

"Half," Tito negotiates. "I have to have room for Chabby."

Okay, that's actually pretty sweet and now Luc's heart is melting into goo, like chocolate left out too long in the sun, and he blinks, because it still catches him off-guard, how much he loves both of these people.

* * *

**IV. November**

Tito is humming as he stirs something bubbling on the stove, when Luc peeks in on him. The entire apartment smells like tomatoes and herbs, so Luc has his guesses about what Tito’s making. It doesn’t stop him from pressing fingers cold from the outside air under the hem of Tito’s shirt where his skin is warm. Tito yelps, stopping his slightly off-key rendition of Justin Bieber, and flinches away. Luc doubles down, pressing his hands against Tito’s abs until his fingers have feeling in them again, and then he takes his hands back, even as he stays pressed up behind Tito.

“Your fingers were so icy,” Tito says, mock-shivering. “Right on my bare skin, too.”

“Forgot my gloves,” Luc admits. “Or Chabby might’ve stolen them, I’m not sure.”

“Sounds like Chabby,” Tito mutters darkly. 

“Right?” Luc says, grinning a little. Chabby’s bed is covered in multiple blankets in the winters, and he’s the reason they even have quilts draped over the back of their couches. He’s a notorious sweatshirt thief, too, but it’s hard to mind when he really does have his issues with the cold, something about an old injury or two. Luc has questions and no answers, because Chabby is surprisingly cagey about his past, and only part of that is because of his notoriety.

“Anyway, wanna guess what we’re making?” Tito asks, cheerfully, already over it.

“Not tomato soup?” Luc guesses, because he still refuses to drink tomato soup on principle; Chabby knows what he did and still has no regrets about it. 

Tito laughs, loud and bright, filling the entire kitchen. “Not tomato soup, even though I would love to see your face.”

“I’m never drinking tomato soup again,” Luc vows. “Never.”

Tito just snickers. “It was good tomato soup, though.”

“He told me it was a glass of water,” Luc hisses, trying to keep looking upset in the face of Tito’s joy instead of getting swept up in it. “He made clear tomato soup and made me think it was water, Tito.”

“I hope you know I’m recording and I’m going to beg you to not cut this out, because your refusal to drink tomato soup despite that being almost half a year ago is really fucking funny,” Tito says, sticking his tongue out. 

“Just because he didn’t make you think it was water when you drank it,” Luc sniffs.

“That’s ‘cause I helped him, not because you’re special and Chabby saves his dickishness for you.”

“I’ll keep it in only if you’re very nice to me,” Luc capitulates.

“That could be arranged,” Tito says, turning to face Luc and winking. “I could get down on my knees and ask really nicely, make it as elaborate as a proposal if that’s what you want.”

Luc tries very hard not to blush and isn’t sure he’s quite successful. He’ll blame it on the steam from the bubbling pot, even though he should be used to how Tito is by now. “Ugh, fine. You know, you could learn to edit for yourself, instead of having to bribe me?”

“Yeah, but then who would handle the merch and promotions?” Tito asks, rhetorically. 

Luc groans, mostly for show, and drapes himself over Tito’s back. Tito lets him, turning the heat on the stove down, but continuing to stir. “So, what are you making, Mr. Beauvillier?”

“Just a basic eggplant parm. I made bread earlier, and I half-fried the eggplant slices, so it’s just the sauce that needs to cook down a little longer. I used fresh tomatoes because we had all those pink and yellow heirlooms that Chabby impulse-bought at the farmer’s market on the weekend, but that takes longer to cook down than canned tomatoes. Plus, they’re a little sweeter, so I cut down on the sugar.”

“Sounds good,” Luc says, inhaling deeply. Tito’s added a lot of garlic and rosemary, less of the other herbs, but it works with these tomatoes. “Smells really good, too. Do you need me to do anything?”

“Do you want to refry the eggplant?” Tito asks. “They’re crispier when they’re double-fried, and I only half-fried them because I wasn’t sure when you were going to get home and I didn’t want them getting cold or soggy.”

“You’re too good to me,” Luc says, and barely avoids kissing the shell of Tito’s ear. It’s right there, but they’re not like that. “Where’s Chabby?”

“Came home from the class he was teaching and locked himself in his room. He’s definitely working on something, but I have no idea what,” Tito says, sounding a little concerned. “There was a lot of swearing, but he did eat the stuff I left outside his door, so I’m not that concerned, because he’s not so stressed that he’s not eating and drinking. Now get off me and start frying.”

“Yes sir,” Luc snaps back, even as he pulls away from Tito, and Tito smirks at him. 

Luc has no emotions about that at all, instead throwing on one of Tito’s ‘Have Fun =)’ aprons, not seeing any of his own aprons anywhere. “So you’re recording the eggplant parm only?”

“Yep,” Tito grins. “I know you probably have half a dozen bread recipes you’re dying to do, even though your focus is on techniques, basics, and ridiculously elaborate pastries.”

“I didn’t see you complaining about my ‘ridiculously elaborate pastries’ when you were shoving entire eclairs into your mouth,” Luc chirps. “But yeah, I’ve been wanting to go on a bread journey.”

“A bread journey,” Tito drawls. 

“Yes,” Luc says, as he turns on the burner and waits for the oil to warm. “I saw a recipe for chocolate chip zucchini bread and I hated it, so I wanted to experiment with our own kind.”

“Use sour cream,” Tito says immediately, and then backtracks. “Actually, maybe don’t. I always use sour cream with banana bread, but zucchini bread will already be wet.”

“You use sour cream in everything,” Luc says, snickering. “I know you bought a giant tub because you and Chabby are going to make a fuckton of sugar cookies.”

“Chabby wants to experiment with pop rocks, and I just want to make sugar cookies,” Tito says, a holier-than-thou expression on his face that Luc doesn’t believe for a second. 

“Right. And if those sugar cookies are possibly used as bribes in the near future—wait, did you say Chabby wants to use pop rocks on sugar cookies?” Luc asks. 

Tito nods. “Obviously, you’ll have to cut this part, because he’s going to make a video and he has a very specific plan for how our holiday videos are going to go, and if we fuck it up, he’ll kill us, but it does involve pop rocks. Homemade pop rocks, though, so I think we’re supposed to call them fizzy candy or something.”

“I can’t believe Chabby is going to ruin the sacred holiday cookie,” Luc breathes. 

“He’s not going to ruin them,” Tito says, with entirely too much confidence. “He’s going to do what he always does. And the sacred holiday cookie is gingerbread men, anyway, Luc.”

“Pop rocks,” Luc says flatly. 

“It’ll be fun!” Tito grins. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I lost it when Chabby fed me clear tomato soup,” Luc deadpans. 

Tito rolls his eyes. “Babe, I love you so much, but you’ve gotta pull an Elsa and let it go.”

Luc has no choice but to start singing, even as Tito smacks him with a dishtowel, laughing. He only stops when Tito looks like he's going to head for the bread, because Tito's answer to a lot of things is shoving food in people's mouths and Luc has no desire to choke in his own kitchen while singing Disney songs. It feels like a very unsatisfying way to go out. 

"I'm stopping because I want to, and not because I'm afraid," Luc says primly. 

Tito snorts, but his hand creeps away from the dinner rolls. "And I'm going to pretend to believe that."

"What was that racket?" Chabby asks, from behind them, and they both jump. 

He looks bad. Or, not bad, necessarily, just, not good, and not like himself, and Luc hates that. He's wearing a sweatshirt that isn't his, judging from the slightly too short sleeves, and he looks about thirty years older than he actually is. Tito is glancing sidelong at Luc and making the most minute facial expressions possible, and Luc doesn't need to be fluent in Tito to understand what he's saying. 

"Hello, Chabby. Why do you look like you got run over with a truck?"

Chabby blinks. "Hello, Luc. Nice of you to be as charming as always. We can't all look like you."

"We don't all normally look one foot in the grave, either," Tito drawls. "Unless looking like a vampire is doing it for you, somehow?"

Luc snorts, and Chabby's eyebrows have knit together, which is really just enhancing the bags under his eyes and the slightly haggard look to his face. "I—what? Wait, are you filming?"

Luc does not understand how Chabby's brain works, at all. He's clouded with fondness anyway.

Tito rolls his eyes. "Yes, mom, we'll cut it."

"Your oil is bubbling," Chabby says dryly. "So maybe don't."

Luc swears.

***

Chabby breathlessly slams open Luc’s door, and luckily for him and also Luc, Luc is not jerking off. “What the _ fuck _ did you do?”

“I don’t know what this was about; it was probably Tito,” Luc says, automatically, while also shifting his laptop slightly for better coverage. It’s...not a thing if he doesn’t make it a thing.

“It was not me! I have no idea what you’re even talking about,” Tito says, indignant and innocent, as he slides into view, skidding on socked feet, standing in the door behind Chabby. “What did Luc do, Chabby?”

“I don’t know,” Chabby says. “I was trying to do an Insta live and all of the comments and questions were incredibly graphic and specific and about you two so I have to assume you did something or forgot to edit out something.”

Shit. Luc shifts uneasily, because he knows exactly what he did, because for one, critical moment, he forgot how the Internet worked. 

Tito’s already starting to laugh and Chabby looks like he’s about to blow his top. 

“So…” Luc starts slowly. 

Chabby sags right in the doorway. “What did you forget to edit out?”

“Tito’s more explicit flirting,” Luc admits, because the cat is going to be well and truly out of the bag soon enough. 

“Hey!” Tito protests. “I meant every word!”

Chabby sighs. “This is not the time to be arguing about who said what and meant what, but I assume that it wasn't that explicit." 

Luc makes a so-so gesture. Could be worse, but for a dirty mind, it's low-hanging fruit. 

Chabby pinches the bridge of his nose. "Now you’re both going to behave yourselves, and we’re going to watch this twelve-minute-and-however-many-seconds video, and I am going to lecture you the entire time and you’ll just have to sit and take it.”

“I’m going to make popcorn,” Tito announces, somewhat gleefully. 

Chabby’s face does a thing, and it’s a funny thing, so Luc calls after his retreating back. “I want the kettle corn!”

Chabby sighs, but there's a wry grin pulling at his face. "I don't know why I put up with you." 

"Because we love you, and you love us, and no one else will let you continue to feed them betrayal time after time?" Luc says, something in his chest clenching just the tiniest bit.

Chabby laughs. "It was funny though."

"Chabby," Luc pouts.

Chabby steps into Luc's room, his face light, and it’s not like he isn’t still stressed, but it’s like he’s pushed it aside. "Yeah, yeah, love you too."

Ow. The traitorous leap of Luc’s fucking heart is too much to bear.

* * *

**V. December**

Even though Luc’s father is that Chef Dubois, he’s not the most infamous of their trio. That dubious honour belongs to Chabby, because there’s a video of him tearing the chefs he was learning under apart. Chabby now goes only by Chabby on the channel, and hopes that no one connects the ‘Thomas Chabot’ from the three french guys Youtube channel with the ‘Thomas Chabot’ who eviscerated his teachers and then dropped out of culinary school and also the face of the planet. Luc’s not sure how successful it is, because he’s pretty sure that his father knows. He's pretty sure his father also doesn't quite approve, but like hell is Luc giving up Chabby or Tito for anything. Still, they used to trade on Luc's fame, and now they trade on all of theirs, because their channel has picked up steam, and a lot of it, enough that they even have sponsorships to keep straight.

David, who runs the cooking school where the three of them teach, has called him in today for no reason that he’s said, but Luc likes him, so he doesn’t mind. At least half of that is because his daughter, Emma, is usually at the school, ready to pull Luc in for a tea party if he's not teaching. It’s only about fifteen minutes walking, and he leaves Tito and Chabby behind arguing about something in the kitchen. 

The second he gets into the school, David hands him a large box that he says is produce, and another bag that has knives in it. “I want you and Thomas to teach a knife skills class in the New Year, what with both of you being professionally trained.

Luc blanches and tries to stumble through some kind of denial, because he knows Chabby doesn’t want that out there at all. He never says anything in their videos, purposely obfuscates, and almost always does videos with plenty of chemicals or chemistry involved. People aren't blind, of course, to how good he is, but he never calls attention to it.

David laughs at him and his efforts. “What, did you think I didn’t know? That boy peels apples in one go with one peel and he tournées better than even you, Mr. Dubois.”

Luc squares his shoulders anyway. “He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” David says, and he’s still laughing at him, but just with his voice and eyes. “But I do process your payroll checks, and I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t think you were!” Luc protests. 

David laughs at him again. “The produce is what we’re planning to work with, since we’re starting in February, and also because Nick accidentally double-ordered. I want to see you and your boy next week with a plan for six week classes done in two hour sessions. If you think something shorter or longer is needed, we’ll discuss that then, too. You know where to find me.”

***

Luc’s back earlier than he’s supposed to be, which is the only reason why he’s eavesdropping on Tito and Chabby, who haven’t realized that he’s back yet, probably because the two of them have created some kind of racket with the metal bowls just as he got in. He should announce his presence, but he’s too curious now.

“I don’t think he knows,” Tito is telling Chabby. Luc can hear the creaking of the sifter so they’re making some kind of dessert, for sure.

Chabby sighs. “I’m starting to think you’re right, but—how can he not know?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tito repeats, and Luc is pretty sure they’re talking about him, now. Something is twisting unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. 

“How can he not know?” Chabby says, sounding four times as frustrated. “How can he still not know; how much more obvious does it have to get?” 

“Careful,” Tito says evenly. “You’re going to get sugar all over the burners and set off the smoke alarm.”

There’s a slightly metallic clattering. “One of these days,” Chabby starts, in a low tone that Luc hears from him almost never. “I’m going to lose it, Tito.”

The sifter stops, and Luc shouldn’t be listening in, but he can’t stop now. 

Tito’s voice is still even. “Babe. Chabby. If he doesn’t know, maybe he doesn’t _ want _to know.”

Luc can feel himself almost choking on jealousy. Tito’s terms of endearment are part of his on-camera personality, but there’s no way they’re filming now, not with the kind of conversation they’re having. 

Something else in the kitchen clatters. “I’ve known him for so long,” Chabby says, and his voice just sounds sad. Resigned. 

“I used to be so jealous,” Tito says wistfully. “Like, professionally jealous, because Luc is a graduate of a premier culinary institute, and you could’ve been, but you dropped out. But also just jealous of how familiar you both were.”

“You didn’t have to be,” Chabby says, sounding stunned. Luc is also surprised; Tito has always been comfortable. Without Tito telling them, he’d never have known.

“I mean, yeah, babe, I know that now,” Tito says, laughing. “But Luc was so much more approachable at first.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Chabby says, and he sounds like he’s pouting. Luc has never heard him like this before, and it’s honestly kind of incredible, even as he feels left out. 

Tito is still laughing. “No, no, babe, let me finish. You genuinely used to intimidate me; I knew two things about you, and one of those things was your knife skills, which were boner-worthy, okay, and here you are now, throwing a tantrum in our fucking kitchen.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum,” Chabby protests, too soft. 

“You are so throwing a tantrum,” Tito says. “But I love you, anyway. Now, c’mon, I want some sugar.”

“Not if you say it like that,” Chabby says, voice dry and unimpressed. 

“What, do I have to beg?” Tito asks, teasingly. 

“I do like it when you beg.”

“C’mon, please, I’ll die without it.”

“You’re such a ridiculous flirt,” Chabby says, laughing a little himself. “Fine.”

Luc’s mistake is thinking that that means he’s in the clear; his other mistake is staying mouse-quiet. 

He gets a faceful of Tito and Chabby kissing in their kitchen, Chabby with his hand fisted into the front of Tito’s shirt, Tito’s hands cupping Chabby’s face. It’s too intimate a scene to have walked in on.

“Oh,” He hears himself say, distantly, both surprised and utterly unsurprised. “I’ll go.”

He flees to his room, unsure of what he should be saying or doing in this situation. There’s no way that was something new, which means they didn’t tell him, which means—

Luc doesn’t want to think about what that means, and ignores the quiet knocking coming from his door, turning on his music and playing it just loud enough that he won’t be able to hear knocking. 

***

“How are you in here?” Luc squawks, staring at Luc and Tito, who’ve entered his room even though the door is locked. It’s been three days of him avoiding them as much as he can, unsure of what he’s supposed to say, unsure of what they themselves are going to say. . 

Chabby rolls his eyes. “Picked your lock.”

“Why do you know how to do that?” Tito asks, leering slightly. 

Chabby smirks. “Thought it would be useful, and I was right. Anyway, I’m going to sit against the door now and we’re going to talk like rational human beings, because we can do that and we are rational human beings.”

Luc wonders if he could escape through the window. 

“Please,” Tito adds, far too earnestly. 

Luc sighs and knuckles at his eyes before motioning at them to go on. There’s no easy way out right now, and he cares too much to be cruel.

“So, you haven’t been talking to us,” Chabby starts coolly, voice snipped and mechanical. “Which is very unlike you. And you kind of freaked out on us in the kitchen.”

“So we decided you needed an intervention,” Tito says, grinning like it’s any kind of comfort. “Or I got tired of Chabby being a fucking miserable sadsack and you being a shut-in and strong-armed Chabby into helping because this entire thing only works when we’re on the same page.”

This is very good-cop bad-cop, although Luc isn’t sure he knows exactly which one of them is supposed to be the good cop. He feels caged. This is literally why there are so many warnings about not shitting where you eat, and now that he knows how to look, he can tell that he's hurt them. Tito's eyes aren't smiling even though his face is. Chabby's remote because he's hurt.

“I just didn’t know,” Luc says, looking away from both of them and focusing on his duvet instead. “You surprised me.”

“It’s not like you walked in on us fucking,” Chabby says bluntly. “You let shit roll off of your back all the time, so why not this?”

Tito sighs heavily. “Chabby, please. I hate being the reasonable one.”

Luc glances at the window again and catches Tito’s disapproving glance instead. He wants to be out of this conversation, but he can’t escape this apartment. This conversation will happen whether he wants it to or not, it’s just that he decides whether it’s going to happen in one fell swoop or going to be spread out over a number of these kind of odd standoffs. It’ll hurt either way, the difference between yanking at a tooth and wiggling it out. 

“But actually, Luc, it’s not like you couldn’t have joined in, so like, what the fuck?” Tito asks, and he’s looming over Luc on the bed, arms crossed and biceps bulging. 

Luc blinks. What. “I could’ve what?”

His room is dead silent, and he no longer feels like he’s choking on the feelings between the three of them. He looks between the two of them, too confused. Tito looks smug and also annoyed, while Chabby looks like the ground dropped out beneath his feet. 

“Luc,” Chabby says, gently, like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal and Luc is the wild animal, as if Chabby’s anger and frustration hadn’t been crackling in the room earlier. “Luc, you’ve literally always been a part of this, what the fuck?”

Tito is covering his face with his hands, but Luc still hears him, muffled. “I hate being right.”

“I don’t understand anything,” Luc says, because he thinks he knows what’s going on, and if he has to think about it on his own, he’ll drive himself crazy in a maze of his own making. 

Chabby is squinting at him like he’s not sure Luc is being real with him. “Luc.”

“I really hate being right,” Tito says, again, louder this time. “Luc, both Chabby and I literally thought we were all together. It took me a month or so to realise you weren’t in on it, and Chabby has been in denial this entire time.”

“Since when?” Luc asks, completely confused. 

“August,” Chabby says, immediately. “With the cakes.”

Oh shit. Fuck. Luc has fucked up on an interminable scale. “I thought those were a joke,” he says, in the tiniest possible voice. 

Tito squints at him. “You’ve literally known Chabby for six years. He doesn’t do those kinds of jokes. Also I have been flirting with you so, so heavily the last few months.”

“I don’t—you flirt on camera!” Luc says desperately. “I didn’t want to assume anything.”

He’s going to die. He has too many emotions for this. 

"Please assume things more often," Tito practically begs.

“In the interest of you being clear about my intentions, for once, I love you kind of a lot,” Chabby says, cutting off whatever thing was about to come out of Luc's mouth that would probably have been terrible and mortifying.

“Ditto,” Tito says. “Like, genuinely, Luc, you’re kind of dumb to have missed all this.”

Luc thinks he’s about to start crying, but Tito’s smile is kind, and Chabby’s face is chagrined. 

“We committed crimes for you; I would’ve thought that would’ve been a dead giveaway,” Chabby deadpans, which, thank fuck, because now Luc is laughing instead of crying. 

It turns into tears anyway. It's such a relief to let go of all of it, the longing and the jealousy and having to hide who he is all of the time, too soft-hearted. 

"Oh no," Tito says, but there's arms around him anyway, another pair shortly after. "I'm sorry."

"It's not you," Luc reassures him, through a sniffle. 

There's no way he looks anything close to attractive right now, but he can't—he's been needing to cry, for so long, that it feels good to get it all out. 

"Better now?" Chabby asks, when he finally manages to stop even the dry-eyed shaking. 

"You would not believe," Luc says, voice quiet but steady. "How difficult it has been to work with both of you, without putting my foot in it."

"Can kinda guess," Tito says. "You're the very opposite of subtle."

"Shh, I want to have a moment," Luc says, trying to cover Tito's mouth and unable to reach, Tito leaning back but refusing to stop holding Luc. Chabby's laughing watching them both, his shoulders shaking, leaning against Luc.

Nothing's changed, really. It should be some kind of revelation, but it's just home. This is how they've always been.

"You both owe me," Luc says, anyway, because he still can't believe that he's missed out on all of these months of his own relationship.

"You can have anything," Chabby says, not at all self-conscious about putting that out into the world. 

Luc can feel himself turning red. "Stop that," he mumbles, even as he's fucking delighted by it. 

"Never," Tito says, in the same breath as Chabby, but he keeps going. "You're stuck with us forever."

Luc doesn't really mind. 

**Author's Note:**

> -i have so much lore for this fic holy FUCK  
-you can find me on tumblr (technically) and twitter (SO MUCH) through @aimeraiwrites or @aimerai1419 respectively  
-is luc a dumbass? yes, but this has also been the holding pattern for like two years, so cut him a break  
-YOU CAN ACTUALLY GET ARRESTED FOR SMUGGLING THINGS INTO CANADA. THAT DOES HAPPEN.  
-hot maple ice cream IS a thing i spent an entire weekend watching molecular gastronomy videos outside of my other cooking video watching for this fic and it was. well. happening.  
-also disco fries are not valid and any new jerseyan who takes exception to that can meet me in the pit


End file.
